


Do You Want Some Milk?

by Manafaust



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2019-05-18 20:44:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14859980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Manafaust/pseuds/Manafaust
Summary: Fear breeds suffering.





	Do You Want Some Milk?

Anakin opened his eyes. The structure which lie before him stood erect in defiance of the violent winds assaulting the black void in and upon which Anakin walked. It was unmistakable, a hollow structure filled with the ghosts of the fear and the suffering which once bound him. This was the shop where he served as a child slave. Anakin moved to turn away, but, as he did, found the same horrid sandstone structure lying before him at every angle. Anxiety swelled in his stomach, and he instinctively moved for his lightsaber. He looked down at it in his hand for but a moment; it was blue and made a soft hum as it hung there, cutting through the silence of the void which enshrouded Anakin. He looked back up, only to find that the sandstone shell was ruined, destroyed, burnt black; there was no smoke, however. It was as though it had already burned long ago. Fear erupted inside Anakin and he lunged forward toward the devastation.  
“Mother!”  
“Ani?!”  
Anakin’s mother’s voice rang out across the abyss.  
Running toward the mutilated building was like running inside sand. Anakin hated sand. He could feel it filling his ears and his eyes and his mouth and his nose, but he trudged onward, legs aching after two steps, skin numb.  
“Ani?!”  
Flames erupted suddenly over the decrepit building. Pain broiled in his thighs as his knees crashed into the floor, and the flaming shop seemed to float upward, though Anakin knew it was he who was sinking.  
“Ani!”  
“M-mother!”  
Anakin looked up and felt his mother’s warmth against his cheek as she held his face in her hand. “Oh Ani I’m so glad you’re home. Let’s have some bantha milk, okay?”  
“...yes, of course.”  
His mother stepped back, and outstretched a hand toward him. “Well,” she said,”come along then.”  
Anakin needed no compelling, and reached out toward his mother’s hand--only, he could not quite reach. His fingers waved helplessly. He was filled with anxiety. His arm became tired and sore. His mother was now holding a glass of cerulean blue bantha milk. He reached further and further; still the milk and his mother was out of reach.  
His heart ripped in two. A tusken raider spear was before him; it dripped in his mother’s blood. She stood there, impaled, smiling, until her eyes rolled back into her skull and her eyelids fluttered closed.  
Anakin was floating. Everything around him was blood. He was blood. His hair swirled around him, soft, ideal, like he was underwater. His clothes had abandoned him somewhere along the way, and his soft, luminous skin broiled inside. Anakin reached for his lightsaber, but found it gone, along with his jedi robes. He wasn’t humiliated, nor did he notice that he could only see flashes of his body, as through peripheral vision. He noticed a voice cutting through the blood. It was familiar but he had never heard it before.  
“Anakin,” it said softly, “it was your fault. It wasn’t your fault. Who would ever tell you it was your fault?”  
“Help me!” Anakin screamed suddenly and his lungs collapsed inside of him. His voice again was lost, and only pain remained.  
Soft hands formed around his heart, and soft arms attached to them. Anakin could feel skin against his skin, soft and tender flesh. He could feel her heart beating against his. Padme. Anakin moved to turn; but he couldn’t. His spirit began to drain, his body became feeble. He could not see her. Fear and anger began to boil inside of Anakin’s intestines. He looked down at the hands clasped around his chest. Padme was not flesh, as he had assumed. Bantha milk in the form of the beautiful queen surged into his skin.  
“Anakin?”  
“Master?!”  
Grabbing hold of Padme’s milky arms, Anakin. craned his head all the way up, only then could he see his Obi-wan standing before him, looking down at him. He was holding a clear glass bowl of bantha milk. “Would you like some milk, Anakin?”  
Anakin took a deep breath and screamed, “help me!” But his throat was dry and arid, like sand.  
Anakin was there now. In the sand. It was filling his eyes and ears and seeping into his brain. It was all around him. He couldn’t see the milk any longer.


End file.
